by Bella Street
Olga's face drained of color. “Young lady, I was there trying to help put your husband back together. Do not assume to know what I feel.”
Seffy took in the nurse's stark expression. It was worse than being slapped by Fiona.
She dropped her face in her hands and began to weep with the last bit of energy her body possessed.
“I'm sorry,” she said, gasping for breath, feeling like she'd suffocate for a lack of oxygen and an over-abundance of sorrow.
Olga patted her shoulder.
“I can't live without him, Olga! All those things I was afraid of—the monsters, the aliens—they're nothing compared to this. God, I'm so lost!”
“There now, child. We're going to get you through this, all right?”
As her tears waned, Seffy's exhaustion deepened. She propped her head up with her hands, all strength in her neck gone.
“How is the patient?”
She glanced up and saw an image of Fenn through a glaze of residual tears.
Seffy leaned back against the stiff pillow and turned her face to the wall.
Olga spoke to him in a low voice. Seffy didn't bother trying to listen. She no longer cared about Fenn and his conspiracies or general weirdness.
“When she's better, we need to deal with the issue of Jared.”
When Seffy heard that, she felt whatever blood she had left come to a boil in her veins.
She turned and glared at the compound leader. “You should have no problem dealing with him, since I know how efficient you are in disposing of dead bodies.”
Olga gasped, but Fenn held up his hand.
“Nonetheless, you can't just go around killing people.”
“Did you perhaps give this little speech to Jared? I'm sure he would've grown as a person and felt kinda guilty for offing an innocent man. Besides, I didn't actually kill him. I just gave him the option. Apparently, he took it.”
Fenn's blue eyes showed consternation. “If I could give you anything, Seffy, it would be innocence. It grieves me to hear you talk this way.”
What the hell? “Why are you here? Did you come up with a new lame excuse of why we can't leave this hell hole?”
His lips thinned for a moment, then he turned to Olga, pitching his voice lower. This time Seffy strained her ears to listen.
“I wanted to talk to you about the autopsy done on Jared's body. Was it Seffy's blood that actually killed him?”
“Initial results were positive, but we're waiting for confirmation,” the nurse said, casting a nervous glance at her patient.
Who stabs themselves with a bloody needle? Wait, don't answer that.
Fenn nodded, reducing the volume of his voice even more. “The reason why I'm asking, is after what I saw you did with...Trent, I wondered if there was a chance her blood could combat my leukemia. If it doesn't prove to be deadly.”
“Of course I'm deadly, you dolt. You couldn't get your precious girlfriend away from my bodily fluids fast enough.”
Fenn regarded her with a blank expression. “You're right. I didn't want to expose her to any...possible pathogens. It was just a precaution.”
“So what, you're trying to be a martyr now?”
He sighed. “No, I'm just at the end of my options. If your blood can combat complex viral and chemical components, perhaps it can destroy cancer as well.” He lowered his gaze. “And I've wondered if Trent's past addiction in some way protected him from the lethal aspects of your blood chemistry, and if it would be the same for me.”
“So being a junkie can serve a purpose,” Seffy mocked.
“Young lady, that's enough.”
Seffy glanced over at an empty syringe on the tray. On impulse she grabbed it and plunged the needle into her arm vein. “I'm getting pretty good at doing this one-handed,” she said through clenched teeth as she tugged on the stopper, filling the tube with blood. “This is to relieve you of the illusion that I have any choice in the matter.”
Olga's mouth hung open.
Seffy yanked the needle from her arm and threw it at Fenn. He jerked back and watched in shock as it bounced on the floor at his feet.
“Seffy!”
Seffy had never heard Olga more furious. She glared at Fenn, daring him to rebuke her.
Instead, he sent her a fulminating glance, then turned and left the room.
Chapter Nine
Seffy squeezed her eyes shut, craving sleep that might bring with it images of Trent. But it was hard to sleep in a stupid hospital bed with a nurse who'd lost all sympathy for her.
Olga went through a vitals check, mumbling under her breath, her movements a little rough. Seffy didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore.
When Olga was done, Seffy tried to conjure up a picture of Trent in her mind that didn't involve blood. Hot tears stung the inside of her eyelids.
She clenched the stiff sheet in her hand and curled into a ball. After several minutes trying to lower her anxiety, she heard voices in the hall.
Gareth entered the room and spoke to the nurse in low tones. Seffy didn't have the energy to deal with him, so she feigned sleep.
“So you're sure about this?”
Seffy wondered what Olga was talking about.
“It's the only way.” He sighed. “If she keeps on in this vein, she'll end up in prison, and that won't do her any favors.”
Seffy wanted to roll her eyes at his melodramatic tone. Frankly, prison could garner her a college education—something she hadn't been able to afford on her own.
“Yes, she's acted in a drastic manner—”
“She murdered someone, Olga!”
Oh, crap. We're back to that.
The nurse cleared her throat. “There are some sketchy details surrounding Jared's death you might not be aware of.”
“Like what?”
“No guards present for one thing, so it can't be proved she was there. And Jared had been under a suicide watch.” She paused. “That said, there's a part of me that wonders if this wasn't set up. Everyone was on edge expecting Seffy to take action at some point. Where were the guards, especially when he was under a watch?”
“I don't know. Maybe the earthquakes had something to do with it. Regardless, Jared is dead.”
“But perhaps she just wanted to make him sick. Her blood didn't kill Trent. It helped him.”
“Olga,” Gareth snapped, “don't sugar coat this. We've known Seffy has needed something more than sympathy for a long time and it's time someone did something about it.”
The nurse was silent for several seconds. “You know I have no business involving myself in what constitutes gross malpractice.”
“You wouldn't have called me in here if you hadn't made up your mind.”
She called him?
“And besides, I know you can be counted on for your discretion.”
Olga snorted. “What do the other girls have to say about this?”
Gareth sighed. “Their emotions are too involved for them to make a logical decision.”
“And your decision is based on logic, is it? Are you sure there's no emotion in there? No wanting to be free of the messes Seffy leaves behind?”
Heavy silence filled the room. “I saw what that mayor did to her. I've had to live with that and the fact that I was too late to prevent the abuse.” His last words came out cracked.
Seffy stiffened, shocked by his words, by his reaction.
“I've tried and tried to protect her,” he said, his voice raw, “to help bring some normalcy to her life. But since we've been here, I've realized the one thing I can't protect her from is herself.” There was a tense pause as he brought himself under control. “She'll self-destruct if measures aren't taken.”
The sound of Gareth's tortured words tore at her heart. Am I on self-destruct? Or was that the nature of grief? By definition, life without Trent constituted self-destruction on some level.
She swallowed back her own tears and struggled to stay calm.
“Is it your job to protect h
er from herself?” Olga asked gently. “At what point do you allow her to stand or fall on her own decisions?”
Seffy heard him sniff hard.
“I've been a part of her life too long to just cut her loose.”
“And yet what you're describing will be blunting her higher brain functions, perhaps irreparably.”
He heaved a ragged sigh. “So there's not some kind of milder medication that will allow her emotions to heal, and then wean her off?”
“That kind of therapy is very involved and complicated. There's the continual medication combinations and adjustments, along with a need for long-term psychiatric care.”
“But you're not willing to do the real thing.”
“A frontal lobotomy? Absolutely not.” She took a deep breath. “But there is quite a bit of Thorazine left over from when this place was run by Soviet dissidents. The ward where you all have your rooms...experiments were done there, and Thorazine was used to subdue the behavior of difficult patients.”
Gareth seemed to hold his breath for several tense seconds. “And you have access to it?”
Olga continued as if he had not spoken. “In fact it was used in large institutions to manage behavior, causing sustained brain damage in many of its victims. After the effects were discovered, there was widespread scandal in the psychiatric realm and the drug has fallen into disuse. This apparently made it popular with those interested in the management of difficult people as opposed to the more onerous task of bringing about healing over time.” She paused. “Do you know what the outcome of that treatment was?”
“Obviously not,” Gareth said, his tone sharp.
“The patients lost their personalities, they suffered nightmares, had reduced mental functions...I guess the easiest way to describe their behavior is...zombie-like.”
Seffy heard only the ticking of the wall clock as Gareth digested the information. So I go full circle?
“When we studied the mixture Popov and his men used to infect those innocent people, we discovered the 'virus' was a concocted blend of Thorazine and a weakened form of the septicemic version of the plague. Hence, zombies.”
Gareth's voice dropped a notch. “Then is there some other drug that isn't quite as powerful?”
“None the compound has access to.”
Seffy felt her muscles tighten, waiting for his response. But it didn't matter. She wouldn't stop any treatment. Surely anything was preferable to the black hole of remorse she'd been sucked into.
Gareth struggled to get his emotions under control, an ugly sound that brought tears to her own eyes.
“God, I just want her to have peace.”
“I understand,” Olga said softly. “But sometimes drugs aren't the answer. Fenn and Trent are surely testaments of that. There are times when chemicals can only bring the illusion of peace in cases like these.”
“Maybe when options are limited the illusion will do.”
Seffy heard the bitterness in his voice and suppressed a shudder.
“So you've made your decision then?”
Seffy felt Gareth's stare centered on the back of her head. Despite her unwillingness to protest treatment, her heart skipped several beats in anticipation of his answer.
“She needs peace, Olga.”
The nurse sighed as if in defeat.
Seffy heard her move about the room, opening drawers and cupboards. Next she felt her I.V. tube shift.
Her heart rate lurched.
God, she was doing it.
Seconds later, a heaviness seeped through her body.
A sense of unreality flowed through her mind until she lost consciousness.
***
Gareth wiped his eyes and watched Seffy's body relax as her head lolled back. He forced words past his stricken vocal chords. “How soon will we see a change?”
Olga's strange expression made him shudder slightly. She was obviously disappointed in him. But all that mattered was that Seffy could find a measure of serenity. “Soon. I'll keep her here tonight for observation. If all goes well, I'll have her returned to her room tomorrow.” She checked the I.V. drip. “What will you tell the girls?”
He released a shaky sigh. “I haven't decided if I will yet. If Seffy reacts as I hope, I think they'll assume she's improving.”
“You mean getting over the loss of her husband—the man you despise?”
Gareth was unable to stop the harshening of his expression. “Just do your job, Olga.”
He turned and left the room, pulling air into his lungs, suddenly more furious than he could remember being in a long time—and that was saying something.
He headed to Seffy's room. When he got there, Gareth paced its confines, cursing the tears escaping down his face.
His heart began to pound louder and louder until he thought he'd black out. He pawed a hand through his hair, then lowered it. After staring at his clenched fist, at the blood seeping from his fingernails piercing his palm, he pulled back and punched a hole in the door.
Chapter Ten
Seffy's eyes fluttered open, then closed again. Trent's image wavered for a moment, tantalizingly close and illuminated by some filtered light, then disappeared.
Anguish constricted her heart and a quiet cry escaped her throat.
“It's about time you woke up.”
Seffy recognized Olga's voice, which brought a rush of memories to her weary mind. Goodbye dreams of Trent and hello to a cold, medicated reality by a zombie drug that would alter her bad behavior.
Some peace.
“Would you like to rest longer? I can come back later.” Olga stood close, patting her hand.
That's good right? That I can recognize familiar people?
Seffy forced her heavy eyes open and became aware of drool pudding under her cheek. Geez, was that a side effect? Drooling all over everything?
She swiped it away and struggled into a sitting position. The nurse helped her up and tucked pillows behind her back. Her pillows.
She was back in her own room.
When she'd regained some equilibrium, she attempted a smile.
Olga smiled back, her eyes suspiciously shiny.
“Do I look like a village idiot?”
The nurse's brows inched up her forehead. “Excuse me?”
“Well, I woke up drooling and now I wonder if I have a goofy smile on my face. I guess since I'm not in a village, I could be the compound idiot instead.”
“Nonsense!”
The energy it took to lift her lips ran out, so Seffy's expression drooped.
Olga took her pulse. “I'm disappointed in you, by the way.”
“Oh.” Seffy frowned, trying to figure out why. When she failed, she figured it was the chemical in her body that was making her stupid. Goodness, the amount of things that she could now blame on pharmaceuticals almost brought another half-smile to her face.
“I know you heard the conversation between Gareth and myself. I kept expecting you to sit up and protest his plan for you.”
“I was...asleep.”
“No you weren't. I forced that conversation for your own benefit. And despite my best efforts, you just decided to allow yourself to be victimized.”
“If you heard anything Gareth said, you would know that's kind of my modus operandi.”
“Aha, so you were awake.”
Seffy grimaced, too taxed to sidestep Olga's verbal traps. “Well, at least I'm not anyone's responsibility or problem any more. I'll just shuffle down the halls, drooling, and gawping in a medicated haze of peace and tranquility.”
“Oh for pity's sake, as if I would do such a thing to you!”
Seffy blinked. “You didn't administer the drug?”
“Of course not! What kind of monster do you take me for!”
“Hey, you were the one expounding on the glories of Thorazine.”
Olga mashed her lips together and checked the bandage on the back of her head.
“Ouch.”
“Trust me, I feel like smacki
ng you on the other side.” She blew out a breath, then surveyed her with her hands on her ample hips. “I thought we already talked about this.”
“About what?”
“About enduring the difficult times, and allowing them to make you stronger.”
“Oh, yeah, now I remember. And it's still too hard.”
Olga shook her head. “Regardless, as far as Gareth knows, you're behavior has been severely modified. I suggest you maintain the fiction.”
“Why?”
“Why? You did hear him yesterday, correct? He's got his own heartache. Maybe if he thinks you're 'taken care of', he can work through some of his own trauma.”
A stab of guilt sliced through her weary heart. “I guess I never thought how it must've affected him, seeing what he saw.” She rubbed her forehead, pushing back at the awful memories with her fingertips. How could she have been so selfish to never consider the impact on Gareth? Had he kept it bottled up all this time? “And I never imagined that he'd blame himself. I mean, he rescued me. He wasn't the perpetrator.”
The nurse considered her answer for a moment. “How did Trent handle the knowledge—assuming you told him about the abuse?”
Seffy glanced down at her hands. “He knew about it,” she said quietly. “He dealt with it in his way, that's for sure.”
Olga drummed her fingers on the mattress. “I'd heard there was a body found in a nearby town at the same time Trent was gone those days in the desert. Is there any connection?”
“God, Olga, you are a conspiracy theorist.”
“We're out in the middle of nowhere. When things happen around here, they tend to be connected.”
“Well, for your information, Trent had help. Mr. Fugere helped make it possible.”
“Made what possible, exactly?”
Seffy knew Olga would figure it out eventually. “Let's just say that Fenn and Trent were dealing with the same person.”
The nurse nodded gravely. “Yes, that's exactly how your husband would deal with the issue.”
“And trust me, he suffered zero remorse.”
“Like you with Jared?”
“I didn't do anything to Jared directly—just afforded him an opportunity.” Seffy released a haggard sigh. “Maybe someday I'll feel bad. But not right now.”
